


Mother, Prisoner, Dragonborn, Queen

by RevenantAvenger90



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Backstory, F/M, Gen, Vignette, artwork, character design, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:39:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8417869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RevenantAvenger90/pseuds/RevenantAvenger90
Summary: Before she was the Prisoner, she was a Mother. Before she became the High Queen of Skyrim, she was a Prisoner. Before all of this, she was the Dragonborn.





	

_Before she became a prisoner, she was a mother._  
  
She had married Torkild when she was 17. On a small, harsh island like the wilds of northern Solstheim, there was not much to do save for work and survive. People married early, people had children early, and people died early. It was part of the cycle of life, and though her mother had been dead for years, by that point, Eir had never forgotten that fact. Life was short. You had to make of it what you could.  
  
She had married Torkild when she was 17, regardless of the fact that her heart was weak and she was in no fit shape to be making love, let alone childbearing. He had a fire burning in his belly, a fire that intrigued her because it was so rare, for one of the peaceful Skaal. It reminded her of her father's people, the Nords at Thirsk. Eir had no idea what he saw in her. She knew that she should not marry him. She did it anyway.  
  
Eir was 19 when she became pregnant. It was a risky thing; with her heart damaged as it was, the strain of the pregnancy could very well kill her, and the babe with her. It was too late to miscarry by the time she found out, though, so there was nothing for it but to carry the babe to term and pray to the All-Father that neither of them died in the process.  
  
Her husband and Leif, her twin brother, took her to Raven Rock for the birth, because they had heard that the Dunmer people there had experience with delivering children with little strain on the mother. Despite the healer's skill, she nearly died, but after two days at death's door, she had come back, had held her baby boy in her arms for the first time, had suckled him at her breast. She had named him Hrafn, and she had become a mother.  
  
 _Before she became a queen, she was a prisoner._  
  
Hrafn died when he was two years old. A virulent fever had swept through their village that winter, and had carried off many in its grasp. Hrafn was in the All-Father's arms, now, they said. He no longer suffered, they said. He was watching over her, and she should not be sad, they said.  
  
They did not think to remember that even a young mother was still a mother, and that no mother should ever have to bury her child.  
  
Unable to cope with the death of their son, Eir and Torkild drifted apart. The change was drastic; while they had never been truly close, it had been years since they had been strangers. One day, Torkild walked into their hut, and Eir realized that she no longer knew her husband, and that was when she realized that she no longer knew herself, either. Had she ever truly known herself, in the first place?  
  
She decided that it was time to find out.  
  
Eir and Leif left the Skaal village. They journeyed south to Thirsk, where their father was still working the forge, and lived there for a time until his passing. Then, with nothing left for them on the island, they journeyed farther south and west to Raven Rock, and from there, they took a ship to Cyrodiil.  
  
The Imperial City in Cyrodiil was a shock to them both. Neither had ever seen so many people in one place; everywhere, there were people, hawking their wares, arguing, chattering, flirting, making love, shouting, laughing. It seemed like everyone was doing everything at once, and it was overwhelming, at first. Thankfully, the twins had always adapted quickly to changing situations, and it was not long before each twin found gainful employment and apprenticeships. Leif pursued the knowledge of the arcane, studying magic and alchemy at the Arcane University. Eir lacked her brother's flair for magic, but she was good with her hands, and had a head for problem-solving. She furthered her skills as a blacksmith and, when her heart's weakness made it so that she could not pursue even that, anymore, she took up jewelry-making and began to study enchanting. Within a few years, the two of them together were able to make a very good living.  
  
The last few months of their sojourn in Cyrodiil had been tense. A keen distrust of Nords had arisen in the Imperial City as word spread of a rebellion in Skyrim to the north, and eventually, they had decided that it was time to go to Skyrim and complete their travels before things erupted into all-out civil war.  
  
They had been captured by Imperials shortly after crossing the border into Skyrim.  
  
 _She became the High Queen of Skyrim._  
  
The battle raged about her. She was a ship in its storm, tossed upon its waves, fighting just to stay afloat in the heaving surge of bodies and weapons. The treaty was broken. The time for alliance had passed. The Stormcloaks were bound and determined to take Solitude or die trying, and they had the numbers, skills, and gumption to do it. They even had the confidence of knowing that Eir Helgasdottir, Stormblade, the Dragonborn, the _Dovahkiin_ , was fighting on their side. With the Dragonborn behind them, they felt they could do anything, even up to taking back their homeland from the Imperials, and the edicts of the Thalmor that had so oppressed them.  
  
Eir took a deep breath, feeling the power rumbling up in her chest, and, catching a blur of motion out of the corner of her eye, she whirled around to release it at the man who was turning to face her.  
  
She froze. He froze.  
  
Eir stared into the face of her twin, and Leif stared into hers, and suddenly, the world was dark and hollow.  
  
Leif's blade met hers, and Eir saw the turmoil in his grey eyes, a mirror to her own.  
  
"Leif," she gasped as he pressed down against her. Sparks flew from the swords in their hands. "Leif, stop! Think! This is what the Thalmor want!"  
  
"We can't divide the Empire's strength and hope to overcome them on our own!" he retorted. It was an old argument, by now, and one which they had gone over from every angle, every different possible solution. What Eir had realized, after their parting, was something that Leif never had.  
  
"Even if Talos isn't really a Divine," she gasped, and ducked out from under his blow, letting his blade slide off of hers. It glanced off of her pauldron, striking sparks from the Ebony armor, and hit the ground before he was back up and attacking again. "Even if Talos isn't really a Divine, the people here _believe_ he is. That belief gives them the strength and will of ten men. If you kill that morale, you kill the one chance you have at driving away the Thalmor once and for all, Leif."  
  
They disengaged, and Leif paused as his sister gasped for breath.  
  
"Ulfric Stormcloak isn't willing to talk, Eir," he warned her grimly.  
  
"He won't talk with Tullius," she retorted. "He _will_ talk with Elisif and Legate Rikke." She took a shaking step toward her brother. "Please, Leif, listen to me. Ulfric Stormcloak is a man who is deeply flawed, but he cares more about Skyrim- about our world- than Tullius does, than the Emperor does, and definitely more than the Thalmor do. His enemy is the Thalmor, not the Empire. He will eventually be willing to work with the Empire, provided that it is as an equal instead of as a vassal."  
  
Leif regarded her. He absently blocked a strike from an axe that came at him from behind, and then he turned and Shouted the words of Kyne's Peace- a Shout that Eir had never learned- and everyone in a 20-foot radius laid down their arms, sat down, and breathed a collective sigh of relief. It would not last long. Eir hoped that it would be long enough.  
  
"And you know this because he told you?" he questioned her.  
  
Eir looked him in the eye. "I know this because I know Ulfric. I do not know all of his past, and I never will, but I know his mind, and I know with certainty that he wants vengeance against the Thalmor more than he wants enmity with the Empire."  
  
He considered her.  
  
"You trust him." It was not a question. "You fancy him."  
  
"I know him." It was an assertion. "I love him."  
  
Those grey eyes, so much like hers, were cool and thoughtful. Finally, he sighed.  
  
"All right," he murmured. "I shall no longer hinder you. Do what you must, sister."  
  
Eir nodded, and, coming up to him, she squeezed his shoulder briefly before she passed him, heading on her way to Castle Dour to find Ulfric and Galmar. She hoped that she was not too late.  
  
Ulfric was just about to break down the door by the time she reached them. She stayed his hand, and then let loose a _Fus_  that blew the door right off its hinges. There was a feminine scream from inside; Eir stepped into the room, only to find that Legate Rikke had been struck by the door and knocked unconscious. General Tullius was defeated shortly thereafter. He put up a good fight, but Eir was the Dragonborn. She had spent the past year journeying across the land, battling dragons, killing the undead, fighting off groups of bandits, training with assassins and thieves and the Dawnguard and the Companions, and frankly, Tullius was getting on in years while Eir was still young. It was not a fight for the bards to sing about, though undoubtedly, they would.  
  
In the end, when given the choice of who would execute General Tullius, Eir took on that bloody responsibility.  
  
"You need to keep your hands as unsullied as possible," she told Ulfric once the deed was done, when he asked her why she had taken on the grisly task. "You will have to move mountains to broker a peace with the Empire in order to rid the world of the Thalmor, and killing a governor will do you no favors."  
  
He had gazed at her, then, and his blue eyes were sincere.  
  
"And who better to help me move those mountains than the Dragonborn?" he asked softly. Eir looked at him, studied him. What was he asking? Ulfric swallowed. "If I am to be High King of Skyrim- and I will- I shall need a High Queen to rule beside me."  
  
Eir's throat stuck to itself. She took a deep breath.  
  
Torkild was dead. He had sold his soul to a Daedra. She had killed him with her own two hands. Eir would never see him, again. In the meanwhile, she had found herself falling in love with Ulfric Stormcloak, with everything he was and had been and everything he could yet become. She had fallen in love with his smile, with his ironic laughter, with his dry sense of humor and the way he said her name.  
  
Ulfric was still waiting. His gaze was anxious.  
  
Eir's lips parted, and she spoke the words.  
  
A month later, they were wed, and Eir became the de facto High Queen of Skyrim.  
  
 _She became the High Queen of Skyrim, but she has always been more than that._  
  
Eir gazed across the misty battlefield. Her very soul was battered; she felt drained to her core, but it was finished. The battle was won.  
  
Alduin was dead.  
  
Leif's hand landed upon her shoulder, and Eir turned to her brother to find that he looked as haggard as she felt. Neither twin said anything as they turned and walked back through the mists of Sovngarde towards the warmth of life. It was not their time, yet; they had too much more to do, peace to bring, people to save.  
  
It was time for the two Dragonborn to return to the world.  
  
 _All hail the Dragonborn._

**Author's Note:**

> _Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim, the Elder Scrolls, or anything else. Eir and Leif's backstory is my own, but I am only playing in the big kids' sandbox, here._
> 
> Character Sketches and Outfit Designs for Eir Helgasdottir, twin sister of Leif Roriksson, the two Dovahkiin of my Skyrim adventures.
> 
> I love the Queen's Dress design. It truly is fit for royalty, if I do say so, myself. I was trying to think of how she might dress for dinner with Ulfric, so I went for something elegant and regal, yet innately sensual. I like to think I achieved my goal. Now I really want to see it in-game...
> 
> 4 hours on Autodesk Sketchbook.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


End file.
